


Family Secrets

by Mary_West



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_West/pseuds/Mary_West
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville has been keeping a rather important secret from Hannah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> There's a very silly group on LJ called "FireWhiskeyFic" where we get drunk and write. This was the first time I joined in, and the prompt was "May Day". Completely non-canon, non-serious, non-beta'd and non-sober. You have been warned.

_I am of legal drinking age in my region: in my region: (yes, by more than I care to remember)_  
_Pairing(s)/Characters: Hannah and Neville Longbottom_  
_Challenge: May Day_  
_Summary: Neville's from the North, and he has a family secret that he promised to perpetuate. And then Hannah finds out._  
_Rating/Warnings: You know, it's barely salacious. PG for mentions of the "S" word1._  
_Author's Notes: Heh. I bet this isn't what you expected._  
_OK, sober to start. One first swig then let's go._

"Neville?"

Hannah looked out from the bedroom where she was feeding their son. Her husband was dressing, not in the Hogwarts robes and sensible plant-tending clothes he usually wore, but in dark blue trousers and a shirt she'd never seen before.

"Neville, is that a red shirt?"

He looked up from the buttons he was struggling with, and she was surprised to see how embarrassed he looked. "It's something I promised my Gran."

From a corner he pulled a walking flagpole thingy with a large red flag on it. "We might be pure-bloods", he said, standing straighter and taller than he had since the day he killed Nagini, "but we never forget our roots. And we came from the North, where the true workers band together and stand together."

Then he turned away from her and walked out through the door that led to the Leaky Cauldron and thence to the Muggle world.

Hannah stood dumbfounded, until young Frank grumbled off her nipple and let out a satisfied belch. At this, she called for Tipsy, the hosue elf that had been lent to them by Neville's gran, and handed over her milk-filled and starting-to-get-smelly bundle.

"Change Frank and then play with him for a while until he's ready to sleep, would you please? I have to go out."

The house-elf stood dumb with gratitude as Hannah had never previously entrusted her with such a major responsibility. Besides, Tipsy had wante3d to play with the baby for aaaaaages. Hannah patted the small servant on her wrinkly head, then headed back to the bedroom and to a box at the back of a wardrobe that usually only got opened at Christmas.

She pulled out a set of denim oeveralls, a book with a small red star on the front and a denim cap that had seen better days. It was a bit of a struggle fitting into the overalls, especially as they were made for a man and not a beautifully curved woman with the adipose tissue that comes after childbirth. Young Frank was five months old, but Hannah didn't have access to the personal trainers and nannies that some of the well-off witches used to look like models after they'd given birth. Besides, Neville loved her just the way she was. But anywyay, yes, I'm getting a little distracted here.

Two hours later, Neville was chatting with the secratery of his local branch when she turned and screamed like a little girl (well, actually, she was a middle aged woman) "Hannah, it's been YEARS and you look so good in your dad's old uniform. Where have you been??"

Neville looked around and saw his wife standing defiantly in the doorway. His eyes roamed from the opened top that allowed her rather lusciuos rounded breasts to almost pop out, down to the hips that were deliciously plump and strained the worker's denim to its extremes. Luckily his own trusers had enough room that his interest was not immediately obvious. But his brain was compoletey taken over by lust and evil thoughts. Or at least it wasn't 100% on the struggle of the workers and the pedagogy of the opressed like it should have been on this fine International Workers Day. (May day. See – it meets the criterai.thingl.)

His wife looked up at him with eyes that cried of the rights of the proletariat and a hifdden pride.

"You knew that I was a half-blood, didn't you?"

For Neville, the rest of the room had disappeared. Also, it had been far too long – 'cause it takes a while for the body to heal after you've had a kid and he'd been a gentleman and not pressed her which had comeplely frustrated her because she wanted cuddles and stufff. Anyway, Neville walked up to her and grabbed her around the waist, and looked into her eyes and said "I should have realised you were a true comrade and a believer in the just cause of the Worker's Rights" And he kissed her hard and long until they heard a "tut tut"behind them.

"Neville, so you've met our Miss Abbott then. She and her family have been staunch supporters of our London branch for nearly a hundred years – her great-grandmother was a suffragette and chained herself to the front railings of the Houses of Parliament."

Neville looked deown at his wife, who had nevber looked as beautiful in his eyes as she did then. "I didn't know." He shrugged, and noticed that the movement of his arms as he did so pulled her top even more open. "My Gran and her family supported the workers up north, because then they heldped keep our family secret from the authorities. But perhaps we could discuss this … elsewhyere."

Hannah saw the matched passion in her husband's eyes. "The library. We can discuss the ongoing revolution against the evil capitalist overlords there, in private."

_And at this point I thnik Im close to throwing u0p so I'm calling it. Besides, I can't concentrate for images of Neville shagging his wife over a desk with posters of Lenin and Che Guevara looking down on them. Suffice to say that it gave a new spark to their marriage, and every year from then on, on the First of May, they took out their workers' clothing and headed down to the local branch of the Socialist Collective of East London – but they never seemed to make it to the march.,_

_1\. The naughty word was "Suffragette". Or maybe "Socialist". Hell – two naughty words. Perhaps I should rate it PG-13 instead..._


End file.
